


Reflected Truth

by bookowl2000



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Possible Spoilers, Since Miklan is mentioned CW for implications of abuse, Snapshots of different times at the monastery, Sprinkles of Netteflix, Sylcedes Week 2020, a mix of fluff and angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26460967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookowl2000/pseuds/bookowl2000
Summary: Seven times Sylvain faces his reflection throughout his time at the monastery.Sylcedes Week 2020 Day 2: Mirrors/Mask
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Mercedes von Martritz
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23
Collections: Sylcedes Week 2020





	Reflected Truth

**Author's Note:**

> I tried something new for me with this, but I’ll be back to fluff for the rest of Sylcedes week (for the most part hehe). Hope you enjoy!

Sylvain combed his hair to the side with his fingers, giving it a messy look that he knew worked highly in his favor. He then adjusted his uniform one last time, hoping it would become less stiff as the days went by. 

Now that he was ready, he smiled at his reflection. Not out of joy, but out of habit. It was the same practice he did as a child to prepare a grin that would appease his parents. Now it was replaced by a dashing smile for all the people he would meet today.

The people who would hear his last name, and think _noble_ and _crest._

That’s all they cared about.

The day proved he wasn’t wrong, many of the Blue Lions girls were just as expected. They hid behind shy smiles and pretty blushes that were just as fake as his charm. People he’d talk to for a week or two before brushing them aside. Curiously, two of his classmates, who Ingrid had unsurprisingly approved of, ignored his flirtations.

Mercedes had been one of the first to catch his eye. There was something about her, more than just her beauty, that drew him in. He sauntered over with a winning grin, but she only tittered behind her hand when he complimented her before resuming her conversation with Ingrid. Her friend Annette barely acknowledged him as well. Although she introduced herself cheerfully, she then promptly ignored him as she perused a textbook. Sylvain was fairly certain they hadn’t been assigned any yet, so where she got the book from, he didn’t know. 

All Sylvain knew was that the school year was certainly off to an interesting start.

***

Sylvain faced the mirror as he adjusted his uniform. The professor had requested of him and Mercedes to join her for lunch, and Sylvain certainly wasn’t going to pass up the chance to dine with them. Mercedes was always fun company.

As per usual, he leveled at his reflection his same practiced cocky and suave visage. His hand fidgeted as he moved to loosen his collar, and it was only then that Sylvain noticed the light thrum of nervousness he felt coursing through him.

That was odd. Sylvain _never_ got nervous.

His mind flashed back to the week before, when he had found Mercedes on her way to the cathedral. His usual easy charisma seemed to fly out the window as he fumbled to find the right words to say in an attempt to befriend her.

But that wasn’t the cause of his nervousness. No, Sylvain was still thinking about how cruelly she had been treated because of her crest, and was worried his questioning could have upset her. His normal defenses of distractions and deflections weakened under the weight of his thoughts, and doubt was able to worm its way into his consciousness. Someone as selfish and bitter as him could never deserve to be friends with someone as sweet and selfless as Mercedes.

And he _was_ selfish because he didn’t heed his own warning, slipping back into his nonchalant mask as he joked with Mercedes. In the presence of her bright, kind eyes and sharp wit, Sylvain was able to stamp down the whispers that insisted he’d only ruin this. For the most part.

***

Sylvain could not move, fear keeping him rooted to his spot. 

Miklan stepped forward, so close now that Sylvain could see his reflection in his brother’s eyes. 

Their eyes were the same color, but Miklan’s seemed to darken with his burning fury. The moment was too familiar; Sylvain felt like the same child who had cowered away, begging to be forgiven for something he couldn’t control. 

His instincts screamed at him to raise his lance. His body wouldn’t listen.

Miklan lunged at him. Sylvain listlessly registered how dull the crest stone of the Lance of Ruin looked. 

_“Sylvain!”_ Mercedes cried.

Sylvain heaved as he sat up, drenched in sweat. It took him a few seconds to realize he was safe in his room.

He flew out of bed, trying to ignore the bile that threatened to rise in his throat.

_It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream._

Sylvain repeated this mantra, but it was useless as he knew their mission wouldn’t be a dream in a few hours. Sylvain tried to temper his shaking hands as he got dressed. 

_Stupid._ He couldn’t fight like this in front of his class, whose worried hovering was already apparent. 

He gripped the edge of his drawer in an attempt to ground himself, his knuckles turning ghost white with the force. Sylvain didn’t know how long it took for his deep, harsh breathing to even out. Once it did, he grabbed his lance without an ounce of hesitation and strode out of the room, catching sight of his determined expression in the mirror along the way.

For better or for worse, he had a mess to clean. Fated for him the moment he was born with that damn crest.

*** 

Sylvain does not look at his mirror the next day.

He’s unsure what he’s more intent to avoid. The image of his brother, who’s features were so similar yet so much more hardened than his own, or the reflection of the beast in himself. He who helped kill his brother.

It had worked, for a time. After classes he had joined Mercedes for kitchen duty, who welcomed his help even though he wasn’t assigned with her that day. Her light chatter served as a welcome distraction, easier to deal with than the weighted gazes of the entire monastery. 

As he polished a knife he caught sight of his hollowed eyes, and immediately pushed it away, feeling a surge of bitter anger.

Miklan wouldn’t have cared if he had died, so why did he care? Miklan had never been a good brother to him.

But was that Miklan’s fault? Or his own, the crest he bore ruining everything? 

He didn’t realize his hands were shaking until Mercedes held them, whispering something soothingly that Sylvain did not register in his despondent haze.

She squeezed his hands, pulling his attention to her. “Let’s get some tea.”

***

Sylvain brushed invisible dust off an epaulette while adjusting the decorative chain. His appraising scan over the formal uniform ended with approval as Sylvain appreciated the fashionable outfit. 

He mustered his best winning smile, one that he would use to ensure he danced with as many women as he liked. It had been a habit that always worked as he convinced himself his carefree ways would give him the freedom he craved before being forced into an arranged marriage. 

Something about it seemed to ring hollow now.

Sylvain pushed the thought aside, preferring to remember his earlier planning with Mercedes. His task was to ensure that Felix went to the ball while Mercedes ensured that once Felix caught sight of Annette he wouldn’t dare leave (which, as Sylvain pointed out, should be easy as Felix had been ensnared for quite some time now).

They had been successful in getting their oblivious friends to dance. What Sylvain and Mercedes hadn’t considered in their machinations were themselves. Sylvain had remedied that immediately with an enthusiastic bow and plea for a dance. Mercedes laughed delicately before placing her hand in his, and Sylvain forgot about all of his earlier plans as they enjoyed the rest of the night together.

***

Sylvain adjusted his armor, the familiarity of the moment a bit jarring. 

It had been five long years since he had last slept in this room, and the reflection he faced now was different - in more ways than one - from the boy he was.

Sylvain knew there was no time to reminisce, immense effort was needed to get the monastery cleaned and back in order. Sylvain grimaced as he remembered the bodies they found the day before. He was glad Dmitri was alive, but their prince was different now. 

He knew his class would work it out, though, and Sylvain gave a proud smile to the mirror as he remembered the previous night’s battle. He, Ingrid, and Felix had made the journey together safely. In the scuffle with the bandits he had only sustained a shallow lance wound. He had gritted his teeth, no stranger to fighting with an injury, and pushed forward. It was then he felt the effects of a physic spell.

He knew, without a doubt, that it was Mercedes. A loud _I’m your girl_ was heard a few seconds after, and the look he exchanged with Felix was one of agreement. They knew their trajectory now.

A hard-fought victory came afterwards, and Sylvain felt rejuvenated knowing he was fighting by his friends’ sides again.

It was then that Sylvain remembered Dedue, and his smile faltered. 

***

Sylvain was interrupted from his writing by faint knocking on his door. Puzzled, he wondered who would come this late. He knew it wasn’t any of his childhood best friends, who were more than willing to bang his door down. 

Sylvain threw the door open, and was surprised to see Mercedes, the torches around her illuminating her features. 

“Mercedes,” he exclaimed, “to what do I owe the pleasure of...” 

He trailed off as his gaze flitted down to her hands, which were holding a bowl of soup.

“Oh.” Sylvain had forgotten to eat dinner.

“Oh indeed,” Mercedes said, pushing past him to enter his room. She placed the bowl on his table, before inspecting his room. Most of it was clean, thankfully, except for his desk that was littered with letters and crumpled sheets of parchment.

“I was worried your cold had worsened,” she explained, “that seems to not be the case, so why did you miss dinner?”

Sylvain tried to ignore the rising lump in his throat, too touched by the worry and care in Mercedes’ tone. He motioned for her to sit while he pulled another chair to the table.

Sylvain’s first instinct was to joke about the late time or his health, but with Mercedes he knew he didn’t have to (and probably shouldn’t). “I didn’t mean to,” he sighed, “My father has bombarded me with letters since we reclaimed Fhirdiad. Negotiations that must be done with Sreng, the position of House Gautier, and of course whatever extra favor I can curry from Dmitri.” Sylvain’s tone had turned bitter at the end, but he tried to reign in his anger.

“Well, your reply can wait. You need to take care of yourself or you will get sick” Mercedes chided. She pushed the bowl closer to him encouragingly, and Sylvain accepted the warm bowl gratefully.

“Thank you, Mercedes.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Mercedes said with a dismissive wave of her hand, her smile comforting. 

Their focus shifted to a more jovial topic, and they soon fell into their normal banter. Mercedes filled him in on what he missed, whether that was Ashe and Caspar chasing after a cat or Ingrid pushing Felix so forcefully at Annette they both fell.

Sylvain had been laughing at one of these stories when he caught sight of himself in his mirror. He looked... happy. Unbridledly, genuinely happy. 

“Is something wrong?” Mercedes asked, turning around to look behind her.

“No...no, quite the opposite actually,” he answered, his smile never abating for the rest of the night.


End file.
